


fire tests gold

by bluesargayent



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: Gen, i just wanted to write about fire ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesargayent/pseuds/bluesargayent
Summary: Artemis pauses his lab experiment to ponder arson.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	fire tests gold

**Author's Note:**

> my mom caught me staring at fire in the kitchen for this story lmao

“Would you turn on the gas, Butler?” Artemis asked. He didn’t need to turn towards the bodyguard to know the message had been transmitted. 

Butler didn’t need to respond. Instead, he swung open the glass panel near the lab’s entrance. Translucence gave way to a metal-lined interior. Inside, the yellow-cloaked pipe put up little resistance as he shifted its handle from perpendicular to parallel, as though it were an attacker knocked flat with a simple jab of Butler’s hand. 

“Thank you, Butler.” Artemis copied the movement on his bunsen burner. Gas leached out the top, turning the space above it into a hazy fuzz, disrupting the air like a fairy under shield. He struck a match and, faster than a plan could turn sour, the haze was alight.

The flame danced with the flow of air, twisting as it attempted to defy it’s limitations and spiral towards the ceiling. The colors transitioned from blue at its base--the mark of the most intense of heat--into an amorphous blob of white, and finally converged to its orange-brushed point. Artemis watched as it rose and fell. It held its own breath--it’s own sense of purpose. 

Of course, the glow he witnessed wasn’t actually fire—fire is simply the process of combustion, an invisible exothermic combination of oxygen, heat, and fuel. The writhing flame was simply a byproduct of the chemistry. A beautiful one, at least. 

It was mesmerizing. 

The flame wasn’t particularly strong, but it held the same fight that all flames do, desperate not to putter out into oblivion. Willing to latch onto whatever it takes--destroy whatever it takes--to survive. Like a feral animal. Like Artemis.

Artemis temporarily forsook his original intentions for the fire, focusing his attention at the shiny thing catching his eye. 

“I’ve committed quite the wide range of crimes,” he commented. 

He paused. The silence existed before he spoke, but now it became tangible, weighing on the shoulders of the room’s occupants.

“Indeed,” Butler agreed after a moment. 

He had intended to leave once Artemis no longer required another steady set of hands, but now he hesitated. Concerned. Like a glass too close to the edge of the table, he couldn’t leave the scene alone in good conscience.

“Kidnapping,” Artemis continued. He tapped ripples into a shallow glass of water with the match, trading the fire for char. 

“Extortion.” He shook the match, watching teardrops fall onto the countertop. 

“Theft.” He flipped his grip, so he now held the head of the match and exposed the untouched handle. 

“Jaywalking.” He introduced the wood to the white-hot torso. Lingering moisture sizzled. The handle showed no change in color--it experienced heat duress for a mere moment, after all, not long enough to burn. 

“Are you going somewhere with this, Artemis?” Butler had to ask.

“Bear with me, just a moment, Butler,” Artemis replayed his action, passing the match through the flame, pace steady, but slow, following an invisible straight-edge. The brown turned orange. 

Butler eyed the fire extinguisher. 

“And yet,” Artemis let the match fall into the cup of water. As suddenly as they were created, the flames died. “I’ve never committed arson.”

“Arson?” Butler shifted. Not sure what to expect. 

Artemis nodded. “Sixteen years, and the situation’s never arisen.”

“You rigged a whaler to explode, back when we first encountered the People.” Field reporter Maggie Walsh had informed Butler of this the next day during the local evening news. Artemis never spoke a word about it. Butler never asked.

“Destruction of property at best, terrorism at worst.” Artemis waved a hand, a scientist dismissing a thoroughly picked-at theory. “Arson, however, it was not.”

Butler did not like where this conversation was going. 

“Good thing.” The bodyguard let his next words hang in the air with purpose. “Fire is dangerous. Can’t be controlled.” 

“So, to be able to control it,” Artemis ran his finger through the flame, feeling the warm blanket envelop his finger, but not sticking around long enough to feel it’s bite, “that would be a mark of true skill.”

“I believe you can control nearly anything in this world, Artemis, but fire is not part of that.”

“Anything can be controlled, with the right approach,” Artemis said. He ran his finger straight through the heart of the flame. Slower than before. The heat launched an offense against his fingertips. 

This was a very Artemis-like thing to say. Except—

“Not fire, Artemis. I need you to understand—fire burns. No one can control it completely, not even you.” Butler knew his charge was perhaps the most brilliant boy on the continent, but Artemis, fortified with a justified sense of teenaged invincibility, was not known for accepting that which was out of his control. 

Artemis remained silent. He ran his finger through the flame again. Slower. 

Dangerously slow. 

Butler watched Artemis reach out one more time, fate set to speed dial with intent to tempt, only to retreat. 

Artemis placed his hand flat upon the countertop. 

For the first time in the conversation, Artemis rotated to face Butler. He smiled. It was not reassuring. 

“Of course, old friend. I’m merely thinking aloud.”

Butler knew better than to mistake this dog-earring as closing the book on the matter. Heavily-armed leprechauns, time paradoxes, bombs atop skyscrapers--it was only a matter of time before the fire being played with became literal. 

As always during the insane escapades Artemis dragged him through, Butler kept a close eye on the boy and within close range of the fire extinguisher. 

Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I was trying something new with my writing style--sort of '9th grade english class highlight all the uses of figurative language' vibes--and it was fun, so even if there's not much meat to it I'm glad I tried something new.
> 
> The title for this story is half of the saying "Fire tests gold, suffering tests brave men" from Seneca. Its translated and interpreted different ways, but generally its read something like suffering can change you, but we grow from it.
> 
> Finally, talk to me on my new writing tumblr [bluesargayent](https://bluesargayent.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
